


any road you take you know that you'll find me

by zanykingmentality



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Lukanette Exchange 2019, Mutual Pining, marinette & luka supporting each other, no chopsticks were harmed in the making of this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-12 00:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20555108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanykingmentality/pseuds/zanykingmentality
Summary: five times Marinette thought about kissing Luka, and one time she did.





	any road you take you know that you'll find me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lemonimn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonimn/gifts).

> you, user mixhispace, get the first lukanette i had the gall to finish 
> 
> lukanette is one of my favorite ships even though i've kinda refused to watch more episodes because i can tell he will get hurt :( i just want my boy to be happy but ANYWAY. the title is from "sucker" by jonas brothers which is one of my new favorite songs i love it. i hope everyone enjoys this but specifically you, mixhispace!

The first time Marinette thinks about kissing Luka Couffaine is during Stats. He sits next to her, the only friend she has in this brand new place, and as the teacher drones on about quartile ranges and the syllabus, she finds herself glancing at the shape of Luka’s mouth. 

He meets her eyes and offers a small smile. Her stomach flip-flops over itself. 

Marinette has known Luka since freshman year of high school, when he was a sophomore. But back then Marinette was distracted by blond hair and blue eyes — too scared and busy to notice the dependable presence that was Luka. She’s still distracted; but this time, it’s by him. 

Quickly, Marinette turns her face back to the front of the class. No one can know. 

But what she’s going to do about it is anyone’s guess. 

* * *

The second time Marinette thinks about kissing Luka Couffaine is at the quad. 

They’re sitting under a tree, a book of patterns sitting in Marinette’s lap. She traces geometric triangles with the tip of her finger. Luka takes hold of her hand, stilling its movements. 

“Hey,” he says in that calm way he says everything. “Calm down. You’ll be okay.” 

“I don’t know,” Marinette says uncertainly. 

“You designed the best costumes I’ve ever seen,” Luka says. His voice is sincere in a way that immediately makes Marinette’s pounding heart slow. “You’re going to win the contest.” 

“I don’t know,” she says again. 

Luka shifts, holding her shoulder secure under one hand. “You are amazing,” he says. Marinette’s heart isn't sure if it wants to calm down or beat out of her chest. Her heart does a lot of thinking on its own these days. 

She can’t seem to come up with something to say back to that. So instead her eyes zero in on Luka’s mouth. Almost immediately, her gaze flits back up to his eyes, too afraid of being caught. Of ruining a good thing. 

Because who’s to say Luka could ever feel that way about her? Maybe he sees her as another little sister. Maybe he’s just a nice person. There are too many uncertain variables. 

“Just wait,” Luka says. “Pretty soon they’ll all see what I already know.” 

Marinette’s lips quirk in an involuntary smile. 

And if she can’t stop paying unseemly amounts of attention to the set of Luka’s mouth, no one has to know. 

* * *

The third time Marinette thinks about kissing Luka Couffaine is at his own apartment. 

Marinette fingers his guitar. An electric with a shocking sound, so different from Luka’s mild temperament. It’s like when he tells a particularly biting joke, or when his brow furrows as he tries to make sense of a question.

“Here,” Luka says. He swings the strap over Marinette’s shoulders and sits down on the floor, patting the area in front of him. Marinette sits. It occurs to her that sitting in a friend’s lap is not exactly something that screams _ we’re just friends! _ But for a moment, she doesn’t find it in herself to care much. 

Luka’s hand grips the fretboard, his fingers arranging into notes. His other hand rests on Marinette’s shoulder, relaxed. 

“Try strumming,” he says, and his breath is hot against her ear. 

Marinette strums the guitar. As she does, Luka’s fingers move around the fretboard, changing notes and keys to create a song. It’s a magical thing, to create something out of nothing. Marinette’s always known that, but she feels it even more now, sitting with her back to Luka’s chest, his chin just grazing her hair. Close enough to touch, keeping a careful distance. 

She wants to turn around and close the space between them. 

Her hands still. 

“Everything alright?” Luka asks. 

“Yep,” she says, slowly, like the word is being drawn out from between her lips. “What are you thinking about when you’re choosing the chords?” 

Luka pauses for a long moment. “My friends,” he says. “The color blue.” Then, after another long pause: “You.” 

It takes every bit of self-control that Marinette has not to turn around and kiss him senseless. As it is, she feels like she’s overheating. 

She goes back to her dorm that night thinking she’s missing some important piece of a puzzle. 

* * *

The fourth time Marinette thinks about kissing Luka Couffaine is in her dorm room. It is, coincidentally, also when she realizes she is in love with him. 

Luka’s staring down at his bare nails, for once without polish. He’s looking at Marinette’s colors. 

“Which one is your favorite?” he asks. 

Marinette ponders this for a moment. “I usually go for blue or red if I paint my nails,” she says. Blue is a color she associates with comfort, and she likes painting ladybug dots when her nails are red. 

“Let’s do blue.” Luka picks the small container of nail polish and settles back on the floor. Marinette slides off the bed and sits across from him, picking up the polish and examining it. 

“Alright. Let’s do this.” She screws off the top and takes one of Luka’s hands in her own. Before she starts, she chances a look up. 

Luka’s staring right at her. He flushes but doesn’t look away. 

Cheeks red, Marinette turns back to his hands and delicately swipes the brush over his nails. They are silent as she finishes the first hand. 

“Thank you for doing this,” Luka says. 

“No problem.” Marinette refuses to look up at his face, knowing his eyes are trained on her. “Don’t you usually paint your nails yourself though?” 

“Yeah, but it’s a process.” Luka inspects his finished hand as Marinette painstakingly works on his left. “I have to wait for one hand to dry before I do the other one.” 

“Oh,” is all Marinette says. She doesn’t say Juleka or Rose or anyone else they know would have done it for him. She doesn’t say she wants to think he asked her because he wanted to be with her. She doesn’t say she wants to be with him. 

As she holds Luka’s calloused left hand, permanent lines etched into the pads of his fingers, Marinette thinks, for a brief moment, that she could do this forever. She could stay with him forever. 

Her motions slow. Forever? Forever is such a long time. But somehow, thinking about Luka, it doesn’t feel like an unpleasant thing. When Marinette used to think of forevers she got scared, like everything would be the same for the rest of her life and even after. That she’d be stuck in a space of both self-loathing and tired nights, pricking her fingers with needles in the dim moonlight. The fabrics she never managed to finish with. 

But with Luka — forever is something almost like a comfort, like despite all changes there will be one constant. 

Oh, god. She’s in love with Luka. 

And it’s not really a surprise at this point. She’s liked him since that second day of class, since Stats, maybe before but never so audibly, never so much that it felt like her heart filled up every time she saw him. 

And then she’s done with his left hand. She almost holds on to it for a moment too long. 

“Thanks,” Luka says. 

“No problem,” Marinette says. She catches herself before she can say anything else. 

* * *

The fifth time Marinette thinks about kissing Luka Couffaine is at the ramen place down the street from the math building. 

It’s a strange time and place, but she’s starting to get used to that. She’s always thinking about it — thinking about the way he runs his hand through his hair, the way his fingers absently run along the skin of her arm when she’s reading. They’ve just gotten out of a two hour stats lecture, and Marinette’s _ starving. _ How someone can talk for two hours straight about stats and linear regression is anyone’s guess. She, personally, doesn’t see how the professor does it. 

Luka suggests ramen, so they’re sitting inside One Bowl with huge, steaming bowls of ramen in front of them. He tries to slurp up his noodles, but coughs when he finds it’s too hot. Marinette laughs into her hand. 

“Not funny,” he gripes. 

“A little funny,” she says. Luka grins, unable to keep the smile from his face. 

It’s actually really funny, because people aren’t supposed to look attractive when they’re leaning over and slurping burning ramen, but Marinette’s still thinking about how cute that kicked-puppy look is on Luka, how she can’t believe she didn’t fall for him all those years ago when they first met. 

She brandishes her chopsticks and Luka watches her hands with wonder. 

“Can you teach me how to do that?” he asks. 

“Do what?” she says. “Use chopsticks?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Um. Okay.” She holds up her chopsticks. “So you hold it like — like this. The bottom one rests in the junction between your thumb and index finger… and you hold the top one like a pencil.” 

“Like this?” Luka asks, doing it wrong. He tries to grab noodles, but his chopsticks cross and almost fall into his bowl. Marinette laughs again. 

“It’s hard,” Marinette sympathizes. “I couldn’t hold them when I learned either.” 

Luka’s expression is only mildly perturbed, but more like he’s enjoying this. Their back and forth, and his mistakes. They look at each other for a moment too long. Marinette jumps and returns to her food, nervous and jittery. It’s weird. 

This may be the death of her. And just as well, because there’s no better way to go than with love. 

* * *

When is the right time to kiss a boy you're hopelessly in love with?

Marinette’s not sure, but something tells her alone together in said boy’s apartment isn't exactly the bells and whistles kind of story most people seem to expect for a first kiss. 

Marinette sprawls out on the couch in Luka’s apartment. He stops and looks at her for just a beat too long, affection plain and clear in his eyes. Marinette wants to kiss the smile off his mouth. 

She doesn’t notice he’s staring at her lips until she looks back up to his eyes. They meet in the middle. 

Marinette sits up on the couch and leans over the armrest. Luka bends over to meet her, stopping half a breath from her skin. “Is this okay with you?” he asks. It’s enough to make Marinette swoon. 

“Yeah,” she manages. Luka’s face breaks out into a giddy grin. 

“Okay,” he says. And then he kisses her. 

It’s long and slow. Luka cups her face in his hands, the pads of his fingers searing hot against every point of contact. Marinette’s tangles her fingers in his hair, messy and beautiful thing that it is. Luka’s smiling against her mouth, and Marinette can’t contain the love in her heart. She loves him, she loves him, she loves him. 

Abruptly, she pulls away. Luka almost follows her, chasing her with his mouth, but he thinks better of it as his eyes flutter open. 

“Sorry,” he starts to say, but Marinette puts a finger to his lips. 

She is happy. She isn’t scared of loving Luka. She wants him to know. 

“Luka,” she says. She says his name like a song in its own right, like a chord unique to her. “I love you. I _ love _you.” 

The look he levels her with is full of so much emotion, she doesn’t even need him to say it back. But he does. 

“I love you too,” he says. “I love you.” Then he laughs. “I always thought I’d be the one to say it first.” 

Marinette grins. “Guess I beat you to it.” She moves back on the couch, offering him space to sit next to her. He takes it, easily twining their fingers together like second nature. Luka gives her hand a squeeze before grabbing his guitar by the neck and detaching their hands to play. Marinette sits back to listen to him. 

“What are you playing?” she asks. 

“Love,” he says. His eyes flit from his guitar to her. “You.” 

“Me?” 

“Your song.” His fingers fly across the fretboard, shifting keys at the speed of sound. They are the same chords he helped her play months ago. 

Marinette sits back and listens. 

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer i love luka couffaine


End file.
